


A Mirror So Old

by ThisSimp1eFee1ing



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: CURRENTLY REWRITTING THIS FIC AS I AM NOT HAPPY WITH IT, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-29
Updated: 2017-11-29
Packaged: 2019-02-08 12:06:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12864180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThisSimp1eFee1ing/pseuds/ThisSimp1eFee1ing
Summary: PROMPT: Write  a  story  from	  the point of view of a  100 year old mirror.  *CREDIT TO :http://bit.ly/2x7q6WZ (June Hunter, Ireland)*, slightly changed  prompt but essentially it.





	A Mirror So Old

**Author's Note:**

> Slightly cannon divergent. This fic is currently being re-written.

Imagine a mirror so old that its wooden borders began to tear and fall in crisps of white paint, so old that the central glass began to oxidise and the chemical reaction leaving it with dark stains spread along the material, a mirror so old that its outer decoration although simple – despite the slightly over adorned in flourishes frame – could easily be traced back to the beginning of the 20th century.

This sentient piece of decoration, for it was nothing more than that, had met a myriad of souls, across the longtime span of its existence, has reflected the faces of many beings, has been to dozens and dozens of homes and played the part of audience occasionally to a moving story of love. But this mirror had never seen something alike the two of them. The way the two danced around each other would be a reflection that this mirror would never forget. Something about the two of them, the spark that symmetric energies make when in contact maybe, could it be that they lived of the breath of one another?

After many years, now the 23rd, in the dark and dusty antique shop, that's when the couple walked in, their boots stepping on the loose wooden flooring, making a pleasant tapping sound.

They look around for several moments and then settle right in front of the mirror, allowing it to finally gaze back to its observers.

"Don't you think this'll look wonderful over the wooden chiffonier?" The blonde man asks, he surely wasn't over forty, with old reading glasses peering on top of his nose, his curls neatly combed to the side, eyes tired but overall a man with handsome features. On his heels followed a man dissimilar to the first, his hair for instance was cut straight with no single strand out of its place, his eyebrows swept upwards and his ear tips peeking out of the black pool of hair. If the mirror had not accompanied the first contacts between the planet and the alien's worlds then he would have presumed the man to be a satanic figure.

"I quite like it, Jim." He spoke to the other man, daring to exhibit a smile.

Those were the first ever words it heard the two of them profess; needless is it to say that the couple acquired the mirror and took it to their home, a modest place of white painted walls and pale wooden floors.

They sat it over a tall chest of drawers on the very entrance and corner of the house, allowing it to have view of the whole apartment area. And it was there that it stayed for the next couple of decades.

◌

As far as the mirror knew, James and Spock were the names of the two house owners, though the first had a fondness for calling the last by whatever endearing term his brain could muster. And though it only knows from what has been said between the house's four walls, the mirror had developed a strong logical ability. Something it gathered from its living years of impotence, a sense that connected the dots and allowed it to infer information that otherwise it would not be able to.

The two men weren't in often, they served aboard a ship, there's where they call home, not this apartment and certainly not where they come from. There the younger one was a Captain and his loyal companion was his first officer, and so for most of its stay in the San Francisco apartment the mirror was on its own.

However, in the few times when the two of them were granted shore leave on Earth it had witnessed the pair of them more and more comfortable around each other with each passing visit.

So it was not surprised when 2 years after, there was a festive atmosphere in the house's slightly mouldy – from not being aired frequently – air. Sparks of electricity were carried in the air as the days were crossed of the calendar.

On the very corner of its viewing field, between the gap of an open door was Spock wrapping himself in long pieces of silky cloth, embroidered by the thinnest silver thread, in order to form the delicate curls that made up the Vulcan script. 

To aid him appeared a woman of curly grey hair – Amanda, as a second man identical to Spock but older, called her – who adjusted the copper coloured cloth so that it fell straight over Spock's broad shoulders. And while Amanda seemed delighted with her son, openly showcasing a smile on her lips, Sarek – Spock's Vulcan father – stood ramrod straight opposed to her.  
There is a common misconception that Vulcans do not feel, which most likely was a rumour started by some misinformed creature, the correct fact being that Vulcans do feel, quite strongly in fact, they simply do not allow their emotions to dictate their actions; logic is a stronger drive amongst them.

In the case that matters to us, Sarek is no different to the others of his kind, he sat calm and collected despite being utterly repulsed at his son's choice – because apparently that is the logical thing to do.

When Spock had finished spreading brilliantine on the straight bangs of his hair, he exits the room in order to walk to the mirror, to check his reflexion thoroughly. Over Spock's shoulder it could see Sarek and Amanda mouthing to one another.

"Husband of mine, how can you?" It is your son's big day." Amanda reprimands.

The older Vulcan does not bother to answer, although it would have come out something along the lines of: "Spock will have more of them, this wedding will not thrive."

Amanda just leaves him be, huffing out the air in her cheeks, going to his son to see if she could be of assistance. Then they exit, leaving the mirror to its own company for the next few hours.

◌

The giggles escaping their lips announce their arrival and this time the mirror actually gets to take a look at Jim's attire. Jim wore a plain dark smoking along with a similarly plain white button-up. Around his neck sat a yellow bowtie, on his lapel countless medals and around his waist – other than Spock's hand – was a sash of the same copper colour as his Vulcan husband's shawl.

Spock's cheeks were tainted pale green, very probably because the flute in his hand with the chocolate-y coloured drink was inebriating his senses, kind of like Humans get when they over-do alcoholic beverages.

They leave the drinks on the wooden chiffonier – Romulan blue ale and what was most likely chocolate (almond) milk poured into a fancy glass – to go consummate their wedding and to start a new chapter on their lives as a married couple.

◌

After that date the mirror only saw them on rare occasions, once every couple of months maybe? But their devotion to one another had never died down. Even in the worst of times:

Of the top of its head it could remember that one time window that Spock had disappeared off to his home world and left Jim on his own. Jim had never been the same without Spock, acting as if he had no reason to live, like if in the Vulcan's absence rested a void, compelling him to drift into the nothingness and just cease to exist. Allowing his newly acquired promotion to admiralty to fill the empty hungry hole until it drove him insane.

This had been a cruel blow to Jim's tender and exposed skin, but although hurt Jim was still capable of loving Spock. Even when one day, the mirror not even certain of which one since so many days have passed, Spock returned home, hand in hand with Jim. But he didn't act the same.

Spock's memories swam in a void, shattered and though Jim did try to pick up the fragments, he simply could not aid the Vulcan to remember the long years of their marriage. That would be something that Spock would remember in time.

They lay in bed, each curled up to their side. Jim looks over his shoulder, to find Spock's eyes closed, the hairs on his forehead parted and uneven, but he slept peacefully. Kirk turns, his arm going around Spock's waist and the top of his head pressed to the muscular chest, as he wept.

"Sa-telsu." Spock breaths out, as if the realisation had overtook him. "You are my sa-telsu."

Jim looks up and shakes his head yes. Glad that Spock was making progress remembering.

"You are distressed." The Vulcan accuses.

"I'm fine." Jim mumbles but to no effect, Spock still takes him in his arms, where Jim exhibits a smile and shifts closer, only to there fall asleep.

◌

To this day, Jim's charismatic presence is one of the most remarkable memories the mirror has conserved in itself, the way his presence lightened the mood, the way he calmly sat, reading an old Earth classic with his glasses perched on the very tip of his nose, were all heart-warming memories – or better said, would be if the mirror had a heart.

And that is why it struck him to such a hefty extent when the mirror grew informed that Jim had perished in space, amongst the stars and by Spock's side. Word had gotten around that he died in his sleep of old age.

Spock was then removed from his duty and retired to their San Francisco apartment. The bond that death had severed between the two of them was beginning to pull at Spock's mind. And the emptiness that Jim had felt before – when the Vulcan first disappeared – was starting, demanding, to be felt. Yet Spock lived on. Grieved? Yes, but it was still life.

*◌*

Years have passed since the mirror last saw Spock. But it certainly would lighten his grief to know that the Vulcan was for a brief amount of time reunited with Jim, not his Jim, but still Jim.

Just the mere sight of him was enough to re-awaken the now numb bond, but Spock held himself firm because this Jim was not his. He belonged to another Spock; it certainly would not have been fair to take him away.

Years later Spock died and was finally reunited with his James Kirk, of light brown hair and soft hazel eyes.

Days before the sad happening, blue eyed James Kirk, had called to inform him that his Spock had finally made up his mind and asked him out on a date. This knowledge gave him great comfort, to know for sure that he and Kirk are t'hy'las – for Sarek's lack of belief in them did reflect itself on some doubt – and therefore destined to find each other in every reality.


End file.
